


The Curious Incident of the Dogs in the Nighttime

by Linpatootie



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015), Rivers of London - Ben Aaronovitch
Genre: "DID WE JUST BECOME BEST FRIENDS" "YUP", Gen, I wish I could say there's more to this, Meet-Cute, Puppies, but nope, plot is for cheesecakes, yeah that's about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-04
Updated: 2015-04-04
Packaged: 2018-03-21 06:17:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3681150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linpatootie/pseuds/Linpatootie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter goes to walk Toby, and meets another young Londoner who started out on a council estate but ended up somewhere quite different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Curious Incident of the Dogs in the Nighttime

**Author's Note:**

> I really, really liked Kingsman. And I really, really couldn't stop giggling at how many similarities it had with Rivers of London. So this kind of had to happen.

The moon hung like a fat disc over London, bright white on an early January evening. It wasn't a bad night, all things considered, but it was bollock-biting cold and I huddled into my collar as Toby darted enthusiastically into the park on Russel Square. 

I wasn’t sure what he was so enthusiastic about. All the squirrels had huddled into their hidey-holes already, and the park was nearly deserted save for two tourists who scampered giggling across the path. Toby ran ahead of me, held back by his leash, and I followed glumly. Not a bad business, owning a dog, but damn did they need a lot of walkies. 

As I followed him, the source of his enthusiasm revealed itself with equal yappy cheer. Nothing excites a small dog like another small dog, and there one was just coming into the park from the other side. A little pug, tugging on his leash so hard he was standing on his hind legs to greet Toby from a distance. The leash was held by a white guy, only a couple years younger than me if I had to guess, wearing baggy jeans, a cap, and an excess of hesitant attitude. 

I knew that look. Blokes like him were a dime a dozen on council estates, clever boys brimming with potential, only sorely held back by their usually unfortunate family situations. It was a bit of a mystery to me what this one was doing walking his dog in bloody Bloomsbury, though. 

I followed Toby, padding up to the boy who was eyeing me up something fierce, as if he half expected me to drop a sword from my sleeve and lop his head off. An odd wariness, that. Very specific. It was the kind that usually came from having had experience with that sort of thing. 

"G'evening," I said as I approached him, doing my very best to keep the cop out of my voice. That sort of thing never meshed well with these boys.

"Hello," he said, giving me that wary once-over again. Then, satisfied I wasn't about to brain him with something-or-other, he turned his attention to the dogs. Toby and the pug were doing their very best to get their leashes hopelessly tangled, and the boy chuckled.

"You too, huh?" he said.

"Yup. Come rain or shine, and all that."

"No rain tonight though, so that's good."

Ah yes, the British, always able to resort to small talk about the weather. Bless.

"I've not seen you here before," I said.

"Yeah, I'm new to the neighbourhood, you could say," he gave up, albeit reluctantly. "My, uh, mentor, I suppose, he lives near here."

"So does mine," I said, and we looked at each other awkwardly for a moment. Well, that certainly insinuated something. I couldn't sense anything magic about him, in any case, but there was a story there he sure wasn't keen to tell. Not that it mattered - I wasn't about to share mine with him, either. 

"I'm Eggsy," he said, nodding his head as if coming to an understanding with himself.

"Peter," I answered.

"This is J.B." He indicated the pug, who had all but crawled right underneath Toby.

"Mine's Toby." Toby briefly wagged his stumpy little tail at the mention of his name, then set about trying to figure out how to get J.B. out from under him. Eggsy looked appropriately apologetic for his dog's behaviour.

"So do you work somewhere around here, or something?" he said. He was fishing for something, I knew he was, but I wasn't sure how to categorise how direct he was being. I'd have worked around it a bit more myself. I considered my answer, but quickly decided on honesty, even if it was just to see what he'd do with it. 

"I'm with the police, actually," I said with a grin. "My nick's situated on Russell Square." 

"Seriously?" He gave me a beautiful, open look of disbelief that made him look about twelve years old. "You don't look like a copper to me."

"What, because I'm black?"

"No, cause you look like you wouldn't know what to do with a gun if a gangster shoved one up your arse. No offense."

"None taken. Don't use guns often, so I suppose it's fair. What do you do?" And did it involve knowing what to do with guns, was what I didn't add but was most desperate to know. 

He fell quiet, and that wariness returned, lurking at the edges of him. "I work for a tailor?" he said, and it was the question mark at the end of that sentence that surprised me, as if it was a question he'd never actually answered before and he was somehow expecting me to correct him.

"Seriously?" I said in my turn, taking in the ugly jacket and scuffed Adidas trainers he was wearing. "Because let me tell you, I may not look like a cop, but you look even less like a tailor."

"We're very specialised."

"Obviously." 

This made him laugh. He had a nice laugh, this one. Something here hinted at the beginning of a beautiful friendship, but I couldn't quite put my finger on what it was just yet. 

"Fuck's sake, J.B., show some dignity, man," Eggsy exclaimed, gesturing at his dog who had rolled onto his back and was happily wriggling his fat belly at Toby. At least Toby was still on his feet, and looking a bit befuddled by J.B.'s enthusiasm. 

"Eggsy!"

We were interrupted by an older gentleman stood at the edge of the park, wearing a truly impeccable bespoke suit and a stunning pair of horn-rimmed glasses. He was holding a black umbrella, balanced on its tip between two shiny black Oxfords. He was so handsome it made me feel a bit desperate all over, but judging by the look in his eyes, Eggsy had much the same problem.

"Peter?" 

Behind me, now. I turned and saw Nightingale standing on the other end of the park, one eyebrow raised. He too was wearing a truly impeccable bespoke suit, if of a more classic cut than that of his counterpart across the park. He had his cane in his right hand, the lamplight bouncing off its silver top. 

Eggsy looked from Nightingale, to the bloke at the other end, and back to Nightingale. A stupid grin unfurled on his face, and he glanced at me.

"You too, huh?" he said, all cheek now under that stupid cap of his. 

I shrugged, and did my very best not to smirk. "It's the suit, isn't it."

"Fuck me, yes. Definitely the suit." 

There was a moment of mutual understanding, then both of us laughed. We fist-bumped, and I reigned in an unwilling Toby. "Duty calls, apparently. See you 'round, Eggsy."

"Same to you, Peter. You and your... suit."

We nodded, and each retreated to our respective gentleman. I tried not to notice how Nightingale was throwing a fairly spectacular stink-eye across the park as I approached him, and could only wonder if Eggsy’s well-dressed associate was returning it.

“New friend?” Nightingale asked.

“Seems like it. He’s got a dog too.” 

“Apparently.”

“And an older bloke in expensive bespoke get-up. You can’t have stuff like that in common and not become best friends instantly.”

Nightingale was giving me that stink-eye, now. It was rather glorious, in the greyish lamplight. I grinned, cuffed him gently on the elbow, and tugged a reluctant Toby out of the park.


End file.
